Tuesday, March 24, 2015

Behind Closed Doors

I mean, except for my Aunt Gert, who’s since learned her
lesson…at least according to the court papers.

What I mean is, no matter how well you know someone or how
long you’ve been friends…how much do you really know about them?

Only what they tell you…and what you can find in their
medicine cabinet.

And believe me no one’s telling you everything…especially
about the mangos….uh, someplace.

But that’s always the way it’s been and probably the way it
should be.

Because do you really want everyone knowing about your lint
collection?

Or do you really want to know about that cute girl in
compliance’s nasty habit of smelling her shoes after she takes them off at
night?

I don’t think so.

But lint and smelly shoes are really just peccadillos; the
kind of things we all do to some extent when we know no one’s looking; the
things that don’t hurt anyone but…well, pretty much no one.

And I’m not talking about the grasshopper enjoyment group you
belong to on Facebook.

Or the fact that you binge watch all seven seasons of
Gilmore Girls every other weekend.

Hey, so what…that Lorelei is pretty witty and witty pretty.

No, I’m talking about the real stuff of life that goes on behind the doors, behind the curtains
when no one else is looking.When the
only face you really know, is the one staring back at you through the bathroom
mirror in the dead of night.

When your tired eyes reflect fears only you know reside
within.

Where taut lips seal the secrets you keep inside.

And that ridiculous long hair sneaks out of your right
ear to reveal itself, mercifully only to you, thankfully only in this particular
lighting.

A wife, mother or daughter received a scary diagnosis,
opened a notice of foreclosure or found something they hoped they’d never see.

A father, son or brother, lost a job, betrayed a friend,
can’t pay their taxes or nearly totaled their car after a long night out on the
town.

Things we keep hidden behind a smile, a witty
comment and care free persona. Or, sometimes, a surly response, an
irrational reaction, and a “poor poor me" day, among friends.

How many of us will ever guess what lies beneath the
surface of all of those other faces we stumble into, each and every day. The
happy face, the bitter, even the sad?

How many of us even care…I mean, really care to know?

For the most part we each have our own troubles to parse,
our own worries to weed. How could we possibly absorb, let alone understand
anyone else’s?

Losing your smart phone is nothing compared to losing my
remote control…let alone a friend a lover or even a favorite pet.

But because we're blind to all the doings behind closed
doors, as well we should, we often judge what we don’t understand. A divorce out of
the blue…a blow-up at work…a disheveled appearance or too many hours spent
with a bottle.

We just don’t know, but assume to presume we do…and that it
could never happen to us.

And even if it does...as long as we keep smiling, keep laughing, projecting the
appearance of sanity…no one will ever know.

Because we always return to the safety behind closed
doors, where our secrets are safe, and no one is ever the wiser.

This is a great post. It reminds me of an SNL sketch from a thousand years ago which was a parody of the movie Ghost, and Patrick Swayze was a ghost watching his widow, only she was picking out belly button link and being generally gross and awkward because she thought she was alone.

Actually, now that I think of it, the whole closed door thing is probably moot. You're most likely being watched through all the cameras lying around your house and office. BTW, that pastrami looks a little old....

Retorting on Twitter

About Me

My passion these days is writing silly stories for “The
Freelance Retort”, the humor website I began in May of 2011 when the world was
supposed to come to an end. It didn’t and now I’m stuck writing these things 2
or 3 times a week.My passion before that was chocolate ice cream.

When I’m not doing this, I’m a freelance, corporate writer/director/ producer, which means—besides the many slashes—I create everything from promotional, instructional and training videos to interactive on line presentations for various corporation and health care companies. In that sense I guess you could say that I’m a “professional writer” since I do get paid to write, work from home and have lots of free time to myself. However, most of my friends and neighbors think I’m just goofing off. Naturally, being a freelance writer who deals with the sometimes insanity of the corporate world from the safety of the creative fringe, my views will more often than not be tinged with cynicism, sarcasm and a fair share of self-deprecation. I hope you enjoy them in the spirit in which they are intended….